


Eight Valentine's Days

by The_Clockwork_Monk



Series: Harry Holidays [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Denial of Feelings, During Canon, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hogwarts Era, Idiots in Love, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Oblivious, Pining, Romance, Slice of Life, Teen Romance, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28775043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Clockwork_Monk/pseuds/The_Clockwork_Monk
Summary: Moments from every Valentine's Day during Harry's school years, and one after Happily Ever After.
Relationships: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Dean Thomas/Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum, Michael Corner/Ginny Weasley
Series: Harry Holidays [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2109684
Comments: 22
Kudos: 49





	1. 1992

Hermione slammed her books down into her bag one more time with her loudest _harumph_ yet, but her roommates still weren't getting the message. Parvati whispered something into Lavender's ear and the two girls collapsed into their most intense giggle fit of the morning, still sitting on Parvati's bed in their pyjamas. One would think that the first year Gryffindors _didn't_ have a packed schedule of classes today with a mountain of homework due, and had nothing better to worry about than which upper-classmen were giving each other Valentine's cards.

"No, I'm serious!" Parvati "whispered" loud enough to entirely defeat the purpose, "Padma told me that Terry told her that Grace told him that she heard Roger Davies planning to give Cho Chang a valentine!

"See, this is where the _real_ drama in Quidditch is, not the matches," giggled Lavender.

"Who do you think in Gryffindor is going to get one?" asked Parvati excitedly.

But then, Lavender finally spotted Hermione rolling her eyes and huffed right back at her.

"I wouldn't be so high and mighty, Little Miss Perfect," said Lavender coldly, "If anyone here has reason to be interested in valentines, it's you."

Parvati gasped. "Oh Lav, you're right!"

"What are you talking about?" asked Hermione incredulously, "Why on Earth would I ever care about people giving each other silly little cards?"

"Well, you're the one who's best friends with two boys," said Parvati, grinning mischievously, "If anyone's likely to get one, it's you."

"Or they'll find some other girls, and all that help you gave them with their homework would be for nothing," said Lavender.

" _What?"_ squeaked Hermione, her face growing warm, "It's not like that! I couldn't care less if they send a valentine to anyone!"

Lavender laughed. "Oh, _come on,_ you've got to like at least _one_ of them, that's just how it works. Which one is it?"

"Oh please, like that's even a question?" said Parvati, "Who would choose Ron when Harry is right there?"

" _And what's wrong with Ron!?"_ said Hermione fiercely. The other two girls looked surprised by how intensely she responded.

"Didn't he send you crying to the bathroom on Halloween?" asked Parvati, "I honestly assumed you just put up with him because you were both friends with Harry."

"That was a long time ago," said Hermione curtly, "he saved me from that troll along with Harry, and while he does sometimes tease me, he always sticks up for me to other people who aren't just joking."

"Oh, so he comes to your rescue?" teased Lavender.

"Oh, that's soooooooo romantic," Parvati swooned dramatically, flopping down onto her bed, and both girls collapsed again into laughter.

Hermione's mouth grew so thin it practically disappeared. She flung her book bag over her shoulder.

"Well, if _you two_ don't mind, I'm going down to breakfast so I can concentrate on our _classes,_ which we _have._ Both of you probably want to get ready at some point today." She turned up her nose and marched down the stairs to the common room.

* * *

"Hey, don't eat all the scones," said Ron with his mouth full.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Ron, you've had plenty already, you're not starving."

"It's not for me," said Ron casually, not looking up from his large pile of eggs, "for Hermione. They're blueberry scones, her favorite."

Harry froze with a fork halfway to his mouth and stared at his friend in amazement. "Are you feeling okay?"

Ron looked confused. "What? I'm fine, why?"

"You're saving food for someone other than yourself."

"Oh. Well," said Ron, resuming shoveling eggs and sausage in his mouth, "It's the 14th, innit? Valentine's Day. You're supposed to be nice to girls on Valentine's Day."

Harry frowned uncomfortably. "I thought that was just for girls that...you know….you _liked."_

"Well yeah, of course I know that Hermione isn't, like….a _girl_ girl," said Ron, like it was obvious, "but she's still _technically_ a girl. My Mum always said that you need to be nice to _all_ girls on Valentine's Day. Though, she might have just been saying that to get me to be nice to Ginny. As if _I'm_ the one who's always mean to _her,"_ he added bitterly.

"I'm...not sure Hermione would appreciate it if _that's_ why you're saving her some scones," said Harry.

" _Yes Harry_ , I know that," said Ron. " _Obviously_ don't mention Valentine's Day to her, she'll get angry if she thinks that _we_ think she's an actual girl, you've heard her complaining about Parvati and Lavender. We're likely to get a lecture about how Valentine's Day brainwashes women or something."

"You've really put some thought—" Harry began, but stopped himself when Hermione walked down the table and sat down next to Ron, looking very grumpy.

"What's the matter?" asked Harry.

"Oh, it's just Lavender and Parvati, they're acting more interested in Valentine's Day activities than our schoolwork."

Ron looked very pointedly at Harry as if to say, _What did I tell you?_

Just as Hermione was pouring herself a goblet of pumpkin juice, the bell rang and students started moving to get to their first class of the day.

"Oh no!" Hermione groaned, "I knew I'd miss breakfast, now my magic will be weak in Charms!"

"Here, just grab some scones to go," said Ron, offering her the plate, "we saved you some."

Hermione looked in wide-eyed shock between Ron and the plate. "Ron, are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine, why does everyone keep asking me that?" he asked defensively, shoving all the bacon he could fit in his mouth as he stood up from the table.

Hermione juggled the plate while she heaved her heavy bookbag and tried to drape it over her shoulder.

"Here, let me carry that," said Ron, "you just finish eating before we get to Charms."

Hermione's mouth dropped open for a second before she hurriedly closed it again. "Oh. Well...thank you, Ron."

The two of them started walking out of the Great Hall, with Harry following behind them, trying his absolute best not to laugh.

* * *

Ginny didn't know how she was going to last until September without going mad. The last several months since Ron had gone to Hogwarts had been the most boring and lonely of her life (though she would _never_ admit to Ron that she missed him so much). Apart from seeing Charlie at Christmas and the occasional hour with Luna, Ginny had no one but her parents for company, not a single person even _close_ to her own age.

She was so desperate to get out of the house that she was currently bundled up in the February chill, walking down the main street of Ottery St. Catchpole with her father, who had taken a half-day off from work, and who was as giddy as he always got in the presence of muggle society.

"Why can't we be more like them?" asked Ginny grumpily, pointing towards a group of muggle children heading home from primary school, "they actually get to go to school since they're little, they're not stuck at home until they're eleven."

Her father shrugged, "Well, maybe that's something we can learn from muggles. Never assume that we always know better. Observe them, even if they're just going about their routines, you might learn something."

But from what Ginny could see, the only thing muggles could teach her was how to hold hands and giggle. Everywhere she looked she saw people of all ages, from secondary schoolers to pensioners, walking in pairs and practically wrapped around each other. With an internal groan, she remembered what today was: Valentine's Day.

Ginny obviously knew nothing about romance beyond what she read in epic stories, but in those stories, romance usually meant a boy doing something to "win" a girl's affection, usually by giving her something or protecting her from something (that she couldn't protect herself from, obviously), while the girl just sat back did nothing but accept it. Why couldn't there be any tales of the maiden saving the knight from the dragon? It was the same attitude that had Ginny sneaking out every night to fly, since her brothers and mother would never let her do something so dangerous (even though the boys did it all the time). So it was no surprise she was skeptical of cliché traditions like Valentine's Day.

"Ah, here we are!" said Arthur cheerfully, and directed her towards a shop selling...flowers.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," said Ginny, "I thought you were going to buy plugs."

"Yes, that's what I told your mother," said Arthur with a wink, "I wanted this to be a surprise."

Ginny groaned as she followed Arthur through the door out of the cold. The shop was very crowded, with boys and men of all ages looking very much in a hurry as they looked around at all the different varieties, scratching their heads and looking overwhelmed.

"You know, you could just _conjure_ some flowers for Mum," Ginny pointed out. "Actually no, scratch that, if Mum wanted some flowers _she_ could conjure them for herself."

"I know she _could_ , Ginny," said Arthur patiently, "Doing something nice for someone doesn't mean you're questioning their ability. The flowers are secondary to the act of getting them. It shows that I thought of making your mother happy and put in effort for it, which is why venturing out into the muggle world for them means more than just waving my wand. You understand?"

"Sure," grunted Ginny, even though she stopped paying attention partway his heartfelt wisdom.

After they picked out a large bouquet of roses, they tried to pay with some of Arthur's collection of muggle currency (some of which was apparently only good in other countries). Arthur was grinning the whole time, completely oblivious to the increasingly impatient cashier.

After taking long enough for an angry queue to form behind them, they were finally on their way back home. When they walked through the door into the kitchen, Molly was charming the knives to chop vegetables for stew.

"Find what you were looking for, dear?" Molly called over her shoulder.

Arthur walked up behind her with the bouquet in his hand, smiling gleefully. "You could say that."

"What's that?" Molly turned around and her face lit up at the sight of the roses.

"Oh Arthur dear, they're beautiful!" Molly exclaimed. She took the flowers and brought the blossoms up to her nose and took a deep breath. "Oh, they smell lovely."

She found a vase to put the roses in and set them proudly on the kitchen table, before turning to kiss her husband sweetly. For entirely too long than parents should, in Ginny's opinion. They separated at the sound of Ginny's dramatic retching noises.

"Oh just you wait, young lady," said Molly, smiling, "You won't find all of this business so silly when it's a boy trying to win your heart."

"Yes, in about thirty or forty years," said Arthur sternly. Molly laughed and slapped his arm.

"I will not!" said Ginny indignantly, "I'm not going to suddenly like being doted on just because a boy—"

But an image swam up from her memories as she was speaking: a face with green eyes and black hair, framed in a train window, watching her as she ran after the Hogwarts Express.

Ginny hadn't realized she had trailed off mid-sentence. She jumped when her mother cleared her throat loudly, and looked away and blushed when she saw Molly giving her a very knowing look, like she could read her thoughts.

Ginny of course knew who Harry Potter was, and naturally was excited about seeing him on the platform, just like any kid would be. But since that day, Ginny had perhaps spent more time thinking about him than normal.

There was just something about him that she found…. _intriguing,_ because it completely contradicted the image she had of him from the stories:

He was alone.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the boy who was so Strong, Pure, and Good that You-Know-Who's evil couldn't harm him, had gone to Platform 9 ¾ all by himself, and didn't even know how to get onto the platform. As he watched her run after the train, she saw on his face a strange mixture of anticipation and sadness, like he wished he had someone to see him off like she was doing for her brothers.

During her boredom of the last few months, her idle mind had come up with an embarrassing amount of daydreams and theories about the life of Harry Potter, especially since Ron had become his best friend and written home about him, about how he had bravely stood up to a Slytherin bully and won a spot on the Quidditch team, and how he didn't expect to get any Christmas presents from his family, so Mum should make him his own sweater.

In most of these scenarios, Harry Potter was tragically stuck with muggles who didn't understand how great he was or what he did for the wizarding world. He was in need of comfort and affection. Perhaps from a girl who loved Quidditch as much as he did. She hadn't even truly met him yet, but Harry Potter's face had started filling the role in her mind of the abstract concept of "Boys."

But she was being silly. As Molly resumed her cooking and Arthur started telling her about his day at the office, Ginny fidgeted nervously and tried to ignore the warm feeling in her stomach. She thought back to all those silly Valentine's Day things she saw the couples doing in the village. By Valentine's Day next year, she would be at Hogwarts….

She eyed the vase of roses on the table, and after making sure her parents weren't looking, she snatched one out and ran up to her bedroom. She closed the door and leaned against it. She closed her eyes and brought the rose to her nose. As the scent filled her senses, she pictured the rose being given to her by a boy with green eyes, and a small smile spread on her face.

Maybe some clichés weren't all bad.


	2. 1993

Ginny's life was over. It was completely, officially over. Her only options now were to flee the country or to drown herself in the lake.

She was trying her absolute best to become invisible in her little corner of the common room, but practically everyone there kept stealing her sideways glances before sniggering with their friends. While she had been retreating to Gryffindor Tower, a group of Slytherin girls had flung a pickled toad into her hair. "We heard it's your favorite color!" they called after her as she had sprinted the rest of the way to the Fat Lady in tears.

As time went on, the students around her eventually got bored with laughing at her humiliation and resigned to just ignoring her, which is how she preferred it.

But then, of course, the twins happened.

The portrait hole swung open, and with a swooping sensation in her stomach, Ginny saw Harry climb through it, followed closely by Ron and Hermione. Harry, who today seemed to be the only boy in the whole school _not_ laughing at her, a fact she had been desperately holding onto.

"THERE HE IS!" boomed George's voice, getting the whole room's attention again, "Romeo himself! You put something in your hair, Harry? It's looking darker than ever, wouldn't you say, Gred?"

"As a blackboard, Forge!" exclaimed Fred, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder, "our future brother-in-law is looking positively _divine!"_

Harry shrugged off Fred's hand and his face turned the same shade of scarlet that Ginny was sure she was sporting herself. Her now-constant embarrassment and fear mixed with guilt over embarrassing him as well.

Then Harry, looking around for an escape, locked eyes with Ginny across the room, and she forgot how to breathe.

Acting on instinct, she bolted out of her armchair and ran up the stairs to the first year girls dormitory, the sound of the twins' duet of her "poetry" carrying up the staircase after her. She slammed the door shut behind her and felt her eyes welling with tears, grateful that the room was empty.

How could she be so bloody _stupid?_ Who the hell wants to be compared to pickled toads!? The idea of the singing valentines sounded so grand and romantic when Professor Lockhart had announced the idea. Ginny thought if she could break the ice in the most dramatic way possible then just _talking_ to him would be no big deal, but now she was more sure than ever that Harry would never see her as anything but Ron's annoying little sister. Not to mention how the whole school now knew her as a dim-witted fangirl.

She crossed the room and threw herself down onto her bed and sobbed into her pillow. But as much as the embarrassment hurt, she clutched onto it, calling herself all matter of terrible names, because as long as she thought about the embarrassment of the poem, that would stop her from thinking about….

_The diary._

Through some cruel twist of fate from a universe bent toward making her suffer, Harry had _somehow_ found the diary. And if he started writing in it, and Tom responded, Harry could learn all of the secrets she poured into that stupid book. As friendly as Tom had seemed at first, betraying her deepest desires just to be cruel now sounded like something he would do. If Harry thought she was just Ron's annoying sister now, she couldn't imagine what he would think of her if Tom told him about Ginny practicing signing her name as "Ginny Potter."

And even worse than that, the diary was _dangerous_. If Harry started using it and Tom got his claws into him, then it might be Harry who's waking up covered with blood with gaps in his memory. Harry was in harms way and it was all her fault, all because of her stupid daydreams and insecurities.

_You could warn him. Tell him the Truth._ A cold voice from the back of her mind mocked her.

...No. She wished she was strong enough, but she couldn't. If anyone found out that she was responsible for the attacks, she would be expelled, and her life would be ruined.

She had only one option: she had to get the diary back. She had to steal it back, then never open it again.

…..Okay, she had to write in it one more time to find out if Tom had told Harry anything, then she'd hide it away forever.

Her tears had stopped now, her insides filling with a cold resolve now that she had a goal. She rolled onto her back, and scowled up at the canopy as she started to form a plan.

* * *

Hermione's fists clenched as she saw Fred and George continue to make their jokes, even as their sister bolted across the room and up the stairs and Harry looked like he wanted to sink into the floor.

"Shall we harmonize, dear brother?" asked Fred.

"Oh yes, let's," agreed George.

They started singing in a duet, " _His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad! His hair is as dark as a blackboard!"_

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione, trying his best to ignore the twins. "I think I'll head to bed early tonight," he said shortly, and he quickly walked across the common room and disappeared up to the boys' dormitories.

Hermione turned to glare as hard as she could at Ron, who was laughing at the twins' antics. When he noticed her staring, his smile instantly dropped and he looked terrified.

"Will you two show just a _bit_ of tact?" she hissed at the twins. They stopped their singing, but kept smirking, not looking at all impressed with her.

"Oh don't be so dramatic, Hermione," said Fred, "We're just performing our brotherly duty to take the mickey."

"I honestly don't know what she was expecting, with a stunt like that," said George.

"Oh I don't know," said Hermione scathingly, "Maybe for members of her own family to not meet her sincere gesture with flippant sarcasm! I mean, would it actually, literally kill you two to not turn every human emotion into an ironic joke!?"

Fred shrugged, "It's certainly possible, we're never tried it before."

"But why take the risk, really? Best to be safe," said George.

Hermione saw Ron chuckle again out of the corner of her eye and rounded on him. "Now, I expected this kind of nonsense from _them,_ but I thought you would be kinder. I'm disappointed in you, Ron."

For a moment, Ron looked as though he had been run through, but then he furrowed his brow at her. "I don't understand why you care so much, Hermione. You don't even know Ginny, and you usually hate all the Valentine's Day stuff."

"Yes — well," Hermione stammered. She wasn't entirely sure herself why she cared so much. "She took a risk, didn't she? She was honest, and I respect that. I mean, I certainly wouldn't have been brave enough to—" she stopped mid-sentence as she caught herself.

Ron raised his eyebrows. "To what? Send a gaudy singing message via dwarf? Why, you've got some poor bloke you want to inflict that on?"

"What!? No, of course not!" she stammered, looking away from him as she felt her face get hot. And she didn't. She definitely, _absolutely_ didn't.

"Just lighten up," said Ron, waving his hand, "I swear, you're acting like a girl."

Hermione spun toward Ron again, her nostrils flaring and her eyes narrowed in rage this time.

"Oh, yes, Ronald, silly me, just PERISH that thought!" she shouted in his face, then turned around and stormed off towards her own dormitory, leaving Ron looking very nonplussed behind her.

* * *

Harry lay on his bed, staring up at the canopy and wondered how long it would take for everyone to stop finding this whole situation hilarious. He had to admit that the whole thing was objectively humorous, he might be able to laugh about it one day, but not today.

It was really just the last line that had gotten under his skin. Rhymes about pickled toads were harmless fun, but having a singing dwarf refer to him as "the hero who conquered the Dark Lord'' in front of the whole school was just going to fuel the image people had of him of a bigheaded celebrity, the image that Lockhart and Colin were already painting. And of course, _Malfoy_ of all people had to be there for it. He had probably spread a rumor by now that Harry had sent the valentine to himself.

However, he couldn't bring himself to be annoyed at Ginny the way he got with Colin. The look on her face during the whole fiasco told him that she regretted it even more than he did and he was mostly just worried about her and hoping that she could get over her crush.

And there seemed to be hope that she would. That was an upside to the last line of that poem, one that he was trying to focus on. It told him that Ginny didn't actually fancy _him,_ she was just swept up in all the stories people told about him, like Colin. So if she got to know him better as time went on and he spent more time with the Weasleys, she would realize that he was just an ordinary person and nothing special, and she would be able to relax and talk around him.

He supposed this was a better reason for the school to be talking about him than the possibility that he was the Heir of Slytherin. He also supposed that the fiasco could have gone worse, if Malfoy had run off with the diary.

Harry frowned and sat up. That was another reason he had run up to the dormitory so early. He couldn't stop thinking about how the diary had been covered in spilled ink, but the pages remained blank.

He got up and began digging in his bag until he found it. He sat back down on his four-poster and began to flick through the pages….


	3. 1994

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still in the library, even though they had completed their homework (even Hermione's monstrous load), because they were desperately searching for some way to prevent Buckbeak's execution before the appeal. They knew there was little hope, but Harry and Ron were mostly trying to work off their guilt as they had left Hermione to do it herself the last several weeks, before they started speaking to her again.

But they occasionally found themselves distracted by groups of students (usually girls) walking past their table while giggling, or nervous boys giving girls valentine cards behind nearby bookshelves.

"One would certainly think there are better places for that besides the Library," said Hermione crossly.

Ron, sitting across from her, just grunted in response, staring down tiredly at an old book about the rights of deadly animals.

Hermione noticed how haggard Ron looked, and her expression changed to a look of concern. "You two really don't have to put yourself through this," she said timidly, "I've covered most of this ground already, I just need to skim through it again and cross-reference it for Buckbeak's case."

"I'm fine, it's no problem," muttered Ron, still looking down at the book, but his eyes weren't moving across it.

"Are you sure you don't want me to look over your Transfiguration essay?" Hermione pressed.

"I'm _fine,_ Hermione," said Ron irritably, looking up at her now, "Just drop it!"

Harry braced himself for another awkward non-conversation. They had been circling each other ever since they made up. Hermione kept trying to break through Ron's polite defenses and actually talk about what happened with Scabbers, but he just wanted to forget it ever happened.

"I'm gonna go check the 18th century again," Harry said quickly, and got up from their table to disappear among the bookshelves, hoping to pretend to look for some book they hadn't spotted yet until he was sure the conversation was over.

Hermione bit her lip nervously and recoiled at Ron's response. She _could_ do what he asked and drop the subject, but she wasn't going to let herself off the hook that easily, that had caused too many problems between them already.

"I know you just want to brush everything off, Ron," said Hermione, crossing her arms and raising her nose up, "But I _will_ make everything up to you, and I won't take no for an answer."

Ron continued to stare down at his book, and then his shoulders started to shake. Hermione's heart ached as she realized that it looked like he was crying.

"Oh, Ron…." she said softly, gently placing her hand on his wrist.

"HAHAHAHA!" Ron looked up and Hermione scowled and jerked her hand back when she discovered he had been shaking with laughter.

"And what _exactly_ is so funny?" asked Hermione coldly.

Ron got a hold of himself, looking around to see if Madam Pince had heard his outburst.

"It's nothing, it's just…." he was still chuckling, "You're even treating _apologizing_ as something that you can _beat_ me in, just another thing for you to be the best at. You never stop, do you?"

Hermione recoiled, his words hitting very close to home. So, like she always did when Ron was right about something, she lashed back.

"Well _excuse_ me for trying to repair our friendship!" she said icily, "That requires seriously talking about—"

" _Hermione,"_ he cut her off, frowning at her, "You already said you were sorry. That's literally _all_ that I ever wanted. That's why I got so upset, because instead you just called me stupid for thinking that the cat finally killed him."

"I'm sorry," Hermione repeated again weakly, not knowing what else to say.

"You didn't have to be so afraid of being wrong about this one thing. It doesn't suddenly mean you're not right about everything else," said Ron, "And you definitely don't have to _try_ to make me feel stupid, rest assured that's my default state around you."

"You are _not,_ stupid, Ron!" Hermione groaned, putting a hand over his again, "I won't hear anyone say so, not even you! For the last time, you just don't properly apply yourself."

Ron chuckled again, gesturing down to the book with his other hand. "Hermione, we both know that I could 'apply myself' to this stuff until I'm old and gray and I still wouldn't put a dent in it. I don't know what I hope to accomplish that you haven't already."

"There's always a chance you'll find something that I missed," said Hermione earnestly, "You've always been able to see easy solutions when I'm over-thinking things."

"That's me, your reliable resident under-thinker," said Ron with pride, "Good for lighting fires, even when there's no wood."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

Ron shrugged. "Well, I have to take—"

They were interrupted by the sound of giggles from the next table. They looked over and a group of first year girls, ones that had been gossiping about valentines, were looking at them sideways, their eyes darting downward. Ron and Hermione followed their gaze and saw that their hands were still on top of each other.

They jerked apart in a flash Ron cleared his throat loudly, causing the girls to burst into more giggles.

"So, uh, anyway, where did Harry run off to?"

* * *

Harry continued to loiter among the bookshelves, just barely skimming the titles on the spines. He would occasionally turn around and head in another direction when he encountered a couple nervously observing the holiday. In previous years, he just ignored everyone making dopey eyes at each other, or made jokes about it, but this year he found himself mentally taking notes, noticing what girls around the school seemed to be enjoying.

While Harry had been trying to work on researching, images kept creeping into his mind of himself being a performer in these corny scenes. Ever since his Quidditch match against Ravenclaw, the image of Cho Chang smiling cheekily at him as she cut him off kept replaying over and over in his head. He wasn't sure if he hated the warm, bubbling sensation the memory caused in his stomach, or loved it.

As he continued to wander, he added more and more details to the scene in his head depicting him giving a valentine to Cho Chang. She would laugh, throw her arms around him and say, "Oh Harry, I love it!" He had to guess what exactly her voice sounded like, since he hadn't technically ever heard her say a complete sentence, but that was just a small detail he could work around.

He was about to head back to check in with Ron and Hermione when he heard a sharp gasp behind him. He turned around at the sound, but never got a look at who made the noise. He just saw the tail of a robe disappearing from view behind a bookshelf. He shrugged and continued walking back to his friends.

* * *

Ginny turned down an aisle between two bookshelves and she loudly gasped as she saw the back of a messy black-haired head that she would recognize anywhere. She was allowed a split-second to wonder what it would feel like to run her fingers through that hair before he started to turn around at her swooning noise. Acting on reflex, Ginny practically dove out of sight behind the nearest bookshelf and took off flat-footed down the aisle, praying that he hadn't recognized her.

After she got away, she leaned against the shelf to catch her breath, then started whimpering pathetically.

Valentine's Day. One year since the biggest humiliation in her life (and yes, she was counting nearly dying at the hands of a book in that). She had sworn that by this time this year, things would be different. She supposed she should count her blessings, since she was now able to speak _around_ him, even if she had a ways to go before actually speaking _to_ him. For now, she was still relegated to sending him badly singing messages.

She covered her face with her hands as she thought about that stupid get-well card she gave him after the match against Hufflepuff. Why did she always do this to herself? Why couldn't she just give him a simple card? She always had to go over-the-top. She supposed she had felt the need to match the over-the-top-ness of saving someone from a monster with a damn _sword._

But with a familiar sinking feeling in her stomach, she reminded herself that she needed to stop thinking of that as some sort of romantic gesture. The summer after her first year, she had allowed herself to become hopeful, since surely the fact that he was willing to throw himself into danger for her meant that he thought she was special. She was sure that once the school term started, he would seek her out and they would get closer.

But it quickly became obvious that he hadn't charged into danger out of feelings for her, Harry was just….like that. He would have done it for anyone. And as much as that crushed her newly found hopes, knowing that he was so brave and kind and good that he would have fought a monster for a stranger certainly didn't help the fluttering she felt in her stomach whenever she thought about him.

_Pull yourself together, girl, you're not a silly little princess from those silly little stories._

She sighed and got her breathing under control. There was no reason to get down on herself when she hadn't technically failed at anything yet. She shouldn't give up on him before she had really tried. Of _course_ he wasn't interested in her, thanks to her nervousness, he didn't even know her! She had to give him the chance to feel the same way after a single conversation, at least. So from now on, she was determined to treat him like any other boy. To remain collected around him. To stay calm, _cool_ —

Someone in the neighboring aisle slammed a book shut and Ginny jumped with a mouse-like squeak, afraid that somehow someone had read her thoughts. She winced again in embarrassment.

_Well, certainly off to a great start, aren't you?_


	4. 1995

"I'm dead," Harry said miserably for the hundredth time, "Either I'm dead, or I forfeit, I'll just tell them I can't compete and to keep….whatever it is they take."

"If it's your Firebolt, you think it'll be up for grabs?" asked Ron, "It's not like the merpeople need it, and I could really use it."

"Both of you stop it," said Hermione sternly, "We still have more than a week until the Second Task, there's a whole library of spells and potions here, we'll sure to be able to find something." She tried to make her voice sound reassuring, but even she felt the day of the Task getting closer and closer. She turned back to the volume she was reading with determination, but as she turned a page, she saw her watch, and gasped as she realized she was running late.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet and stuffing her books into her bag, "I've got to go! I'll meet the both of you at dinner."

" _You're_ leaving the library before _us?"_ asked Ron with raised eyebrows, "Pigs are flying. Where are you off to?"

Hermione tried not to look panicked, but still felt herself blush. "I need to go send a letter," she mumbled, and scurried off before he could ask more questions.

_You could just tell him the truth,_ she told herself, _You're not doing anything wrong, why do you care what he thinks?_

_I_ _don't_ _care,_ she replied to herself forcefully, _It's just none of his business, is all._ And she didn't care. She absolutely, certainly didn't care.

Hermione wound her way between the bookshelves of the library before arriving at a remote back corner, surrounded by outdated textbooks that no one ever came looking for, meaning it was unlikely anyone would randomly stumble into this secluded spot.

She tried not to let her mind run away with possibilities as to what that meant for her meeting here.

She gulped loudly when she saw Viktor sitting alone at the study table, not having noticed her because he was staring intensely down at the book he was reading. She awkwardly cleared her throat and he looked up, and he got that look in his eye that made her stomach do somersaults.

It wasn't just that Viktor was handsome (though she would admit that he was), it was that…..well, he was a _boy._ And he looked at _her_ like that! That was already unprecedented for Hermione, but the fact that he wasn't just any boy, but a Triwizard Champion and Quidditch star? That he could spend time with any girl in the school, but wanted to meet with Hermione Granger, the plain, shrewish bookworm? That was unimaginable.

_Hermione, Neville's right — you_ _are_ _a girl…._

She stiffened and became determined to not remember _that_ conversation. She wasn't going to let Ron ruin yet another nice thing. Besides, the way Viktor was looking at her now indicated that it was obvious to others that she was a girl, even if Ron had never considered it.

Not that she cared whether Ron considered it. She definitely didn't.

"Oh, Herm-own-ninny, I am glad you are here!" said Viktor excitedly (and, somehow, _nervously_ ), and quickly stood up. He walked to the other side of the table, pulled out the opposite chair, and politely gestured for her to sit down.

Hermione blushed even more, feeling like some noble lady instead of a schoolgirl with bags under her eyes from long nights of researching waterbreathing spells.

After she was seated, he sat back down across from her and gave her that same small, focused smile that made her feel like she was being x-rayed. After a few seconds of silence (uncomfortable for her, but he didn't appear so), she looked at the book he had been focused on and grasped at her favorite topic of conversation.

"What are you reading?" she asked, "You seem to find it very interesting." She reached and pulled the book a little closer, and was surprised. She had expected that he was also preparing for the Second Task, but instead it was just a Bulgarian-to-English dictionary.

"You already have a proficient grasp of English," she assured him, "And this won't help you pronounce my name," she teased _._ Was she flirting? Was this what flirting was? She had no frame of reference.

"I can speak vell enough to speak to strangers," said Viktor, "But I lack the vords to describe you."

"...describe me?" said Hermione softly.

"Yes," Viktor nodded, "You are…." he flipped through the pages of the dictionary and found what he was looking for. He looked back up at her piercingly.

"...Captivating," he finished.

Hermione gulped again.

"Here, I have something for you," said Viktor, and reached into his pocket, and retrieved a small, bright red box, sliding it across the table towards her. Hermione opened it, her hands shaking slightly, and she gasped as she saw a shining silver necklace, a simple fine chain and a small pendant in the shape of an owl.

"It is meant to be the symbol of Athena," said Viktor, "For a witch that loves the library. I do not know much about Valentine's Day but—"

"I love it." Hermione couldn't stop the silly smile from spreading across her face as she put on the necklace. She wasn't sure if she felt as strongly toward Viktor as he clearly felt toward her, but at the moment she didn't care, she was just enjoying finally letting herself feel "girly," and actually being appreciated for it.

….and she tried very hard to ignore the little voice in her head who wished someone else would look at her like that.

* * *

"Come on, dinner's starting," said Ron, standing up, "You can't come up with a last minute plan to avoid drowning in freezing blackness on an empty stomach."

"You're hilarious, Ron," Harry grunted passively as he gathered his belongings and started following him out of the library. As they were entering the entrance hall, Harry's mood was starting to improve a bit from the smells wafting out of the Great Hall, but then came crashing down again and his stomach lurched as he saw Cedric and Cho walking hand-in-hand past them, not paying anyone else any mind as they laughed cheerfully at something Cedric had said. Cho held up her other hand to admire a thin gold bracelet on her wrist. It seemed to be a Valentine's Day gift Cedric had given her.

Harry suddenly lost his whole appetite. He no longer had any interest in talking with Ron or being quizzed by Hermione, and the loud noises and crowd of the Great Hall suddenly seemed suffocating.

"You go ahead without me," he told Ron, "I've got to use the bathroom." He turned back the way they came before Ron could respond.

He ducked into the nearest bathroom he found, figuring it was as good a place as any to sulk. He walked slowly up to the mirror and scowled grumpily at his reflection.

_Comb your hair!_ Uncle Vernon's voice shouted up from the depths of Harry's memory. His hand moved automatically to try once again in vain flatten the mess on top of his head. He just knew that Cho would be going out with _him_ right now if he had hair more like Cedric's, which seemed to just naturally always look like he had just walked out of a salon.

Harry's eyes moved down from his hair and he continued to frown at the rest of himself. Over three years since Harry started having access to as much food as he wanted, but he was still skinny (not at all like Cedric's muscular build). After all the lessons, all the Quidditch matches, all the "heroic" brushes with death, he would always be the boy shoved into a cupboard so that people wouldn't have to look at him.

All the fame in the world couldn't make girls like him. _Really_ like him, for him. Parvati had seemed happy when he had asked her to the ball, but had basically spent the night showing him off like a prize, then had given up on him when he didn't play the part she wanted. It was the same thing with Ginny all over again, everyone wants the Boy Who Lived, but why would anyone want Harry?

His stomach growled loudly to interrupt his brooding, and he reluctantly admitted to himself that he had to get back to dinner. This wasn't making him feel any better, maybe Ron's method of eating through his moods was the proper approach.

* * *

Ginny suddenly wasn't interested in eating dinner with her friends. She threw her book bag down onto the very end of the Gryffindor table and plopped down on the bench all by herself.

She had been in such a great mood before she saw Harry looking like a kicked dog when he saw Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory practically draped over each other. She had been Harry-Watching long enough to recognize burning jealousy when she saw it, especially since she had seen it in the mirror so many times.

_He's going with Cho Chang. I asked her to go with me just now, and she told me._

Ginny had never felt so hopeless or worthless as she had after hearing Harry say those words. For two years, she had been deluding herself into thinking that if she was just able to _talk_ to him, let him get to know the real her, then he would start to "notice" her.

And she had been making progress. She still blushed around him, but she wasn't rendered speechless. When he had stayed at the Burrow for the Quidditch World Cup, it really felt like they were growing closer.

But then the Yule Ball was announced, and since he was a champion, Harry had no choice but to find a girl to go with him. She could tell he was terribly nervous of the idea of asking someone, but did he ask the girl that he _knew_ would say yes? Of course not, he had run after Cho Chang!

Cho Bloody Chang, who Ginny was fairly certain Harry had never once actually spoken to. So, as it turned out, that wasn't a requirement for Harry to fancy a girl. He hadn't ignored Ginny because they hadn't _talked_ enough, no, there was only one explanation: Ginny simply wasn't pretty enough. And Harry, as it turned out, was just another shallow, hormonal _boy_ who only cared about looks.

Ginny felt hot, angry tears stinging her eyes and buried her face into her arms on the table, trying to hide her freckled face and long Weasley nose, and tried her hardest to hate Harry Potter.

Someone loudly clearing their throat behind her made her jump. She looked up, quickly wiping her eyes of her tears, and turned to see a boy smiling at her confidently.

"Oh. Hey Michael," said Ginny, clearing her voice, "what's up?"

"Well," Michael shrugged, still smiling, "it's Valentine's Day, so I figured I had to say hi to the prettiest girl in our year."

Ginny remained silent for several seconds. She turned her head to see if any other girls were nearby. When she turned back, he was still looking at her.

"You….you think I'm pretty?" Ginny said softly.

Michael let out a loud bark of laughter. "Are you serious? I _can't_ be the first person to tell you that."

"There's not exactly a long line…." she muttered bitterly.

"Here," Michael pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to her. She felt herself blush as she took the handmade valentine card, and found herself smiling when she saw a charmingly terrible short poem written on it (though Ginny wasn't going to throw stones in that glass house).

Ginny had had fun dancing and talking with Michael at the Yule Ball after Neville had to leave, but she had assumed he was just making the best of a bad situation, since he hadn't managed to get a date of his own. Ginny had been completely ignored by the boy she fancied and was only there as her date's second choice, so she never considered a boy would actually _want_ to dance with her.

But the feeling in her stomach she was now getting from the way Michael was looking at her….she had to say it felt good. Was this what girls like Cho Chang and Parvati and that Beauxbatons girl felt like _all the time?_

"Thank you, Michael, it's beautiful," said Ginny, smiling widely now.

Michael let out a long exhale and visibly relaxed, apparently having been more nervous than he had first appeared. "I'm glad you like it. Well, I'll let you eat, I'll talk to you later!"

_Yes, I think we will talk later,_ thought Ginny with satisfaction. She turned back to her food, her appetite having returned with a fury, and hummed happily at this new revelation that maybe not _all_ boys were blind idiots.

* * *

"You better eat something, mate, brooding works up an appetite," said Ron cheekily to Harry as he sat down at the table. Ron's own plate was already piled high.

Harry just grunted and he seemed even grumpier than he had been in the library. Ron couldn't figure why, it's not like his situation got _more_ dire on the way to the Great Hall.

"Where do you figure Hermione is?" Ron asked, trying to not let Harry sit in silence, "She left before us and she's still not here."

He looked around, and still didn't see a head of bushy hair. He suddenly frowned. "Hey….you don't think she's with — nevermind," he stopped. He didn't want to think about it. And he _certainly_ didn't want Harry to know how much he didn't want to think about it.

They lapsed into silence for a few seconds, with Harry glumly shoveling food into his mouth, when Parvati Patil walked down the table behind him, arm-in-arm with the Beauxbatons boy she had danced with at the Yule Ball. As they were passing him, Parvati looked at Harry sideways and suddenly erupted into laughter as if her companion had said something hilarious, but he just seemed surprised and confused by her outburst.

Ron dipped his head to snigger into his plate. When Parvati was gone, he punched Harry in the arm.

"Looks like she's trying to teach you a lesson, mate."

Harry just shrugged again. "I guess I deserve it. I could have at least _tried_ to be a decent date. I had sort of made up my mind to be miserable all night before it even started."

"Eh, I don't think you two crazy kids ever had a shot," said Ron with mock sadness, "I mean, she wanted you to _dance._ She _loved_ dancing. And _you_ looked like a helpless flobberworm while you were out there."

There was a beat, then Harry started chuckling softly. Ron was pleased that the Weasley method of mocking someone to cheer them up always worked.

"Yeah, could you imagine me trying to keep up with her all night?" asked Harry, smiling and laughing harder now. "I bet even if I had actually gone to the ball with….someone else, I still wouldn't have wanted to dance. The disaster with Parvati just let all the girls in the school know: Harry Potter _does not dance._ "

"Well, then I'm afraid there's no hope for you, dear boy," said Ron, patting Harry on the shoulder, "The gold, the fame, the Quidditch skills, none of it will matter if girls know that on the dance floor you look like you've got a skrewt up your—"

Ron cut himself off as he finally saw Hermione making her way toward them, and stood up so quickly that he banged his legs on the table. He cursed as he sat back down.

As Hermione joined them, Ron noticed a glint of silver hanging from her neck. She noticed him frowning and where he was looking and quickly hid whatever it was in her shirt.

"Really long letter, was it?" asked Ron, failing to keep the accusing tone out of his voice.

She ignored him. "What were you two laughing at?" she attempted to change the subject. Ron bit his tongue and obliged her.

"We were just talking about how Harry will never have a girlfriend because he can't dance. But you're a girl. So, as a girl, you would know that better than us. You know, 'cause you're a girl."

_Smooth, Weasley._

But he couldn't stop stuff like that from vomiting out his mouth, since the fact that Hermione was, in fact, a girl had been beating like a drum in his head for months. It was practically all he could think about.

Yes, Hermione was a girl. The girl who he spent most of his days with. Who made him laugh when she was trying to be serious. Who was always pushing him to be a better version of himself. The only girl who _hadn't_ taken the mickey out of him for his horrid dress robes.

And the girl who, Ron had realized with horror, was breathtakingly pretty.

That realization had hit him at the Yule Ball like a ton of bricks. He had tried to convince himself that it was just the makeover, and she would just be his friend Hermione the next day, but he had found her even more beautiful with her usual bushy hair and ink-stained school uniform. All day, as he had seen couples…. _coupling_ for Valentine's Day, he couldn't stop thinking about all the cheesy things that wouldn't be so cheesy if he did them with Hermione.

But, of course, he hadn't been the first person to notice how amazing she was. Now that she knew her worth, that she was captivating enough to catch the attention of a bloke like Viktor Krum, why would she ever debase herself by seeing Ronald Weasley as anything but a friend?

Hermione was frowning suspiciously at his ramble. "Well….in that case, as the expert, I can tell you that there's no universal rule, every girl is different. For instance, I wouldn't really care if a boy could dance or not….but Ron may have a point," she said sympathetically to Harry, "it may be good to keep your options open by getting some lessons, since most girls aren't like me."

_You could say that again,_ thought Ron.


	5. 1996

As the water continued to fall over Ginny's face, she reluctantly admitted to herself that she wasn't going to drown. It was a good thing the school showers were magical, or she would have run out of hot water ages ago. But she still really didn't want to get out and face the world again, not after the disaster of that day's Quidditch practice. The image of Angelina looking more and more hopeless over the course of their all-day practice still appeared every time Ginny closed her eyes. She had finally realized her dream of being on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, yet she couldn't even bring herself to look forward to her first match.

She finally turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. As she was drying herself off, she glanced at the clock on the wall and was glad she had stopped when she did, it was almost curfew. She quickly got dressed and left the bathroom, heading back toward Gryffindor Tower. As she was walking down the seventh floor corridor on her way to the Fat Lady, she passed her boyfriend going the opposite direction.

"Oh," said Michael, somewhat coolly, "There you are, I was looking for you."

"Yeah, sorry," said Ginny in a tired voice, "I kind of lost myself in the shower. Kept going over the practice again and again in my head."

Michael crossed his arms. "I suppose spending the whole day thinking about it wasn't enough?"

Ginny didn't know what he was on about, but she was fairly certain it was something she decidedly _did not need_ right now on top of everything else.

"What's your problem?" asked Ginny.

" _Well,"_ Michael threw his arms up in exasperation, "It's Valentine's Day, and you've been preparing to play Quidditch, playing Quidditch, or reminiscing about Quidditch, right until the end of the day. It just kind of stings a little."

Ginny took a deep breath and gave an exasperated sigh. "Michael, you _said_ that you were fine with me being at practice today. We agreed we'd make it up later."

"Well of course I _said_ that," Michael said condescendingly, "What was I supposed to say? I knew Johnson didn't give you a choice, but you could have at least acted like it was difficult for you, and made some time afterward. Instead, it's like you don't even care. Today, it felt like I didn't even _have_ a girlfriend!"

Ginny's patience snapped.

"So let me get this straight," said Ginny icily, "Not only am I supposed to just _know_ when something's bothering you even when you lie about how you're feeling, but I'm also supposed to make a show of beating myself up over doing my job for my team, all so that you can _feel_ like you have a girlfriend, despite the fact that you _do_ have a girlfriend, so that _totally_ makes sense!"

As she went on, her voice got louder and louder until she was shouting at him. In the back of her mind, she knew she was taking her hopelessness and frustration about the dire state of the team out on him, but she was too tired to care.

"And to be clear," she continued, stepping towards him and poking him in the chest, "Angelina didn't _force_ me to practice today, I agreed that it was necessary, because this team is _important to me_. It's a hell of a lot more important than going on a date on Valentine's Day instead of any other day. Are we clear?"

Michael didn't flinch as he glared back into her eyes.

"Yeah, you're right," he said venomously, "I guess _I'm_ just being stupid."

The way he emphasized the word made his meaning clear: _she_ was the one being stupid. If Ginny hadn't been about to fall asleep on her feet, she probably would have hexed him.

"I need to get to bed," she said flatly, "I'll see you tomorrow."

She continued on toward the Fat Lady without looking back at him. After she gave the password and climbed through the portrait hole, she leaned against the wall of the common room and closed her eyes. She knew she would regret that later. He just got so frustrating sometimes. He alternated between not taking her commitment to Quidditch seriously, and smugly acting like it was a given Ravenclaw was going to win due to their superior planning and tactics.

She trudged across the common room and was about to head up the stairs to the girls dormitory, when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Harry was sitting by himself in one of the armchairs by the fire, staring into the flames and brooding. That in itself wasn't noteworthy, Harry was always brooding these days. But she figured he would be happy _today_ of all days, since today was his big date with _Cho Bloody Chang._ Unless…

_The date went terribly!_ she thought, getting a running start and full-on leaping to conclusions, _He was miserable the entire time, realized she's terrible for him, and now he's over her!_

_Why do you care?_ asked a voice inside her that sounded like Michael.

_I don't,_ she told the voice firmly, _I'm just concerned that a friend is upset._

Suddenly breathing very fast and no longer tired at all, Ginny walked over to the fire and sat down in the armchair next to Harry.

"Hey," she said.

Harry jumped, not having noticed her. What else was new?

"Oh," he said, "hey. Ron and Hermione are already gone. Prefect duties."

"Good, maybe Hermione can comfort him," sighed Ginny, "Merlin knows he needs it."

Harry winced. "So it's safe to say practice didn't go well? Ron didn't want to talk about it."

"If you want to win an award in understandment, yes you can say that," said Ginny with a defeated laugh, "After Angelina was satisfied with my seeking, she sent Ron and I to one end of the field just to take shots at him while she, Alicia, and Katie ran passing drills. He didn't block a single one of my shots. And, don't tell him this, but by the end I was holding back a bit."

Harry threw his head back and groaned. She knew that he was once again beating himself up for being banned and blaming himself for the team's current predicament, despite the fact that that made no sense, since Ron was already struggling before Harry got banned.

_Oh, so you can tell what HE'S feeling without him saying it?_ said Michael's voice.

_Shut up._

"You know, speaking of you seeking and never missing shots," said Harry, suddenly with narrowed eyes and looking at her with such focus it made her blush, "How did you get so good at Quidditch? Ron said they'd never let you practice with them, then you just showed up at the tryouts and got the spot as the new Seeker. After the original one decided to be an idiot, I mean."

Ginny resisted the urge to break into a mischievous smile, and instead just shrugged casually.

"Well, you had never even _heard_ of Quidditch before you were put on the team, right?"

Then, she put on a dark scowl for him, "Unless you're saying only the great _Harry Potter_ can have natural talent, while the rest of us have to work our butts off to get on your level?"

Harry's face turned white and his mouth gaped open as his brain processed what she was saying.

"Wha — no — I don't — I just thought that—"

" _Harry."_ She placed a hand on his wrist, cutting off his adorable floundering and smiling widely at him. "I'm just messing with you."

Harry visibly relaxed and returned her smile, making her stomach do a flip.

"The actual truth is," Ginny whispered, leaning towards him conspiratorially. He leaned in to meet her until their faces were closer than they had ever been.

Ginny's heart was pounding in her ears, and not just because of how close he was. She hadn't told this to anyone in the world besides Hermione.

"When I was six," she whispered, "I started sneaking out of the house every night to steal my brothers' broomsticks from the shed. I used to fly all over the orchard next to the Burrow."

Harry's mouth dropped open before he grinned. Ginny felt extremely proud of herself.

"No!" he gasped, "Seriously? That's brilliant!"

"Are you going to tell Ron?"

Harry's smile disappeared. "Not if you don't want me to." Ginny found it really sweet.

"I just hope I'm there when Fred and George find out," said Harry, "They're under the impression that they're the biggest rule-breakers in your family."

Ginny gasped dramatically, "Well we can't let them know the truth, it would break their little hearts!" Harry laughed hard, and she was very proud of herself for cheering him up.

"Well, I'm glad you did," said Harry, "It's comforting that my replacement is someone who cares so much."

Ginny sat back in her chair and sighed. "Well, I'm glad _someone_ appreciates it."

Harry tilted his head questioningly. Ginny told him about her argument with Michael.

"What annoys me more than anything is this idea that I'm supposed to read his mind," said Ginny. It felt good to vent about it to someone.

"Oh believe me, I _completely_ get that," said Harry. "I guess now I know it's not just girls who do that."

Ginny frowned. "What are you talking about? Hermione getting on your nerves?"

"No," said Harry, looking uncomfortable, "I just kind of...completely, totally blew my date with Cho today."

Ginny's eyes widened and her breath hitched as she remembered why she had come over to him in the first place.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Well things started out so well!" he said in exasperation, "We were walking down to Hogsmeade together and we were talking about Quidditch. That was nice, since it's one of the three things I can hold a conversation about."

"What else more do you need?" shrugged Ginny.

"And then she takes me to this teashop in the village—"

" _No!_ " gasped Ginny, "Madam Puddifoot's? She didn't."

Harry nodded.

"Oh, I wish I could have been there," said Ginny, grinning sadistically, "Seeing you in that place would have been hilarious."

"How do _you_ know that place?" Harry asked her, raising an eyebrow.

"Michael took me there last Hogsmeade day," said Ginny. "Stayed maybe five minutes before I couldn't take anymore. The place smells weird."

"I _know,_ right?" said Harry. "Anyway, I mention that Hermione told me she had something important to talk to me about at the Three Broomsticks later that day, but I assured Cho I wasn't ditching her and she was welcome to come. She _said_ okay, but soon afterwards she started talking about all her past boyfriends. She pointed out Roger Davies snogging his date and said he asked her out once."

"Pleasant conversation topic," said Ginny.

"Yes, to be clear, _nothing_ prompted this," said Harry, "She just randomly said it. Then, she starts reminiscing about _Cedric_ taking her to that tea shop! Then, before I know what's happening, she's crying in the tea shop and asking me details about…..that night."

"Oh no…." said Ginny, clapping her hand over her mouth. "Oh Harry, I'm so sorry. That must have been horrible…"

"Well it sure as hell wasn't a laugh," said Harry bitterly. "Then she just gets up and runs out. I know I must have missed _something,_ but I can't figure out what the hell she was getting at. Anyway," he said, trying to smile again, "I definitely understand wanting people to just say what they mean."

Ginny was fairly certain she knew what Chang was "getting at." She had felt threatened by Harry saying he was going to meet another girl, so decided to remind him just how popular with boys she was in order to make him jealous.

But Ginny sure as hell wasn't going to tell _Harry_ that. Chang didn't need the benefit of the doubt. Everyone knew that Harry and Hermione were just friends, and she had tried to make Harry relive that horrible night, when he thought he was somewhere safe.

"She's _crazy,_ Harry," said Ginny, waving her hand dismissively, "You didn't do anything wrong. Seriously, who brings up a murder their date witnessed while on a first date?"

"Yeah, I know…" said Harry quietly, looking at his knees. "Unless…."

Ginny became concerned as his voice trailed off. "Unless?"

"Unless the entire reason why she was interested in me in the first place was just to get information about Cedric."

Ginny paused thoughtfully for a moment, then put a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Harry?" she said gently. Harry turned to look her in the eyes.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say."

They were silent for a moment, before they both snorted and erupted into laughter.

"I mean, _come on,_ " said Ginny, shaking her head, "No girl flirts with a bloke for months, snogs him under the mistletoe, and go out with him on Valentine's Day just to interrogate him about a murder. You really think that's more likely than a girl fancying you?"

"Well, _I don't know!_ " said Harry defensively, "It's been a very confusing day. And…."

He stopped laughing and he became sullen again. He silently picked at his armrest for a few seconds.

"It's just…..it's just one more thing about my life that circles back to _him_ , you know? For a few minutes, I could pretend I wasn't me and was just a normal bloke. But I can't even go on a date without him popping up in my life."

Ginny didn't know what to say. She just knew that he shouldn't want to be a different person, because the person that he was was brilliant.

Suddenly, Harry chuckled again.

"You know what the ironic part is? If she hadn't blown up at me and just gone with me to see Hermione, she would have gotten the whole story."

Ginny frowned in confusion.

"Hermione had set up an interview," explained Harry. "For me to tell my side of what happened that night, as opposed to the _Prophet_. It's getting published in _The Quibbler,_ but at least it will be out there. So I laid it all out, from beginning to end."

Ginny's face lit up. "Harry, that's great! I'm sure lots of people will start believing you once the real story actually gets out."

"Thanks," muttered Harry, "Anyway, Cho can read all about it then. She won't even have to bother with me."

_Yeah, and when she reads it she'll realize how horrible she was to you and come running back into your arms,_ Ginny thought bitterly.

"You know, Harry," Ginny said in a light voice, leaning towards him and twirling her hair with her fingers. She knew she was being pathetic, but she assured herself that her crush was only resurfacing because of her fight with Michael and Harry's disaster date, and she'd get over it again tomorrow.

"I can't help but notice," she continued, "That Cho started acting weird when you mentioned you were going to meet Hermione. Some girls don't think boys can _really_ think of girls as just friends, and don't like their boyfriends having female friends."

"That's ridiculous!" cried Harry.

"Yeah, I know," said Ginny sadly, "But if she does think like that, you would never choose her over Hermione, right?"

"No," Harry admitted, "And it's true Cho always got pretty tense around Hermione. And she _really_ doesn't seem to like Ron."

"If your girlfriend doesn't get along with your friends, and you're always having to choose between them, then I don't see that ending well," Ginny said reasonably.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," said Harry, sounding very disappointed. "And she would probably get even more annoyed when she figures out there's parts of my life that Ron and Hermione know about but she can't. I mean, it's not like I can tell her all about the Order, or Sirius, and oh yeah, the fact that I have a mental connection with _bloody Voldemort!"_

"Yeah, you have a lot to deal with, and sometimes you can't dump all of it on someone who's removed from it." said Ginny, "But the person you're with should be someone you could trust completely, with all parts of your life."

Seriously pushing her luck now, she said, "Maybe it would just be easier to go out with someone who already knows the darkest parts of you. That way, there's no risk of scaring them off. Chatting about Quidditch is fun for a few minutes, but it's not enough for a long-term relationship."

"Well _that's_ just bloody great!" Harry said sarcastically, and slouched into his armchair, looking defeated and hopeless. "So all I have to do is find a girl who knows about Quidditch, likes Ron and Hermione as much as I do, and already knows my deepest, darkest secrets and doesn't run away screaming." He looked right at her. "What are the odds I'll ever find a girl like that?"

Ginny smiled at him and shrugged. "Well hey, the world is a big place, you never know," she said, as she screamed inside her head and resisted the urge to strangle him.

* * *

"Come on, midgets! It's getting late! Get to bed!" Ron barked at a group of first-years, and they scattered in fright in the directions of their common rooms.

" _Don't_ call them midgets, Ronald!" Hermione said again, swatting his arm, but the corners of her mouth curled up in a small smile.

They were patrolling the castle, sending stragglers at the end of the day off to bed before they got detention.

"This part of the job kind of feels...hypocritical for us, doesn't it?" asked Ron.

"May I remind you, Ron," said Hermione with her nose in the air, "that _I_ only break school rules for good reasons. I'm not the one who makes bets with Malfoy to get into duels in the middle of the night just to prove a point."

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Ron, "I know, you're bloody perfect, Hermione." He tried to make it sound like he was being sarcastic, even though he wasn't.

"Besides," said Hermione, "We haven't snuck around the school at night in years. We're perfectly capable of trying to guide younger students."

"Er — actually…." said Ron nervously.

Hermione stopped and turned towards him with her eyes flashing dangerously.

" _Ron…._ " she said in a warning voice.

"Before the Quidditch tryouts," admitted Ron, "I was sneaking down to the Quidditch field at night to practice flying."

Hermione gaped. "Ron! Please tell me you at least had the map or the cloak!"

"No…." Ron said meekly, "At the time, I didn't want Harry to know."

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "What am I going to do with you?" but Ron felt giddy when he heard affection in her voice.

"Fat lot of good all that practice did with me," said Ron glumly, throwing cold water onto himself. "I should never have bothered trying out. I'm a disaster of a Keeper."

"Ron, _stop it!_ " said Hermione harshly, grabbing his arm. "This is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Your opinion of yourself is your entire problem. It's just like with your schoolwork, you'd be capable of so much more if you just saw yourself the way I see you."

Ron blushed furiously and was struck speechless. He just continued walking next to her, conveniently bumping their elbows at times just to touch her.

Then, Ron noticed a familiar smell in the air. He sniffed a few times, then his eyes widened in realization.

"Hey, that smell…." said Ron, "Are you wearing the perfume I got you?"

"Yes, so what?" said Hermione sharply, not looking at him, "That is what one does with perfume, isn't it?"

"Nothing's wrong!" said Ron defensively, putting his hands up. "I'm just….I'm glad you like it."

Ron's heart was pounding and he tried to calm down. It was truly pathetic how badly he had it for this girl. He couldn't believe how stupid he had been, not seeing her as a girl. Not only was she _A_ girl, she was _the_ girl, the epitome of the word. The only girl he pictured himself with.

But he had to get a hold of himself, because nothing could happen. If he was mistaken, if he told her how he felt and she didn't feel the same way and just saw him as a friend, it would ruin everything. How were they supposed to go back to being friends after that? And her friendship was too important to him to risk.

But still, it was nice to walk with her.

****

Pre-curfew patrol was probably the part of prefect duties that Hermione liked the most, because those were the longest times she got to be alone with Ron. She loved Harry, but she found herself getting annoyed at him whenever he joined the two of them and interrupted….whatever it was that seemed to fill the air with the two of them.

Now, she could freely talk to Ron without him and Harry devolving into boyish, childish jokes. Even when they weren't talking, she got a thrill just from walking with him. It would be _so easy_ to move her hand just an inch to the side and entwine his fingers with hers.

His words before the Yule Ball had crushed the budding hope she had started to feel, but over the past year the stray look or comment he sent her way had made her think that there might be something growing between them.

Then, Christmas had sent Hermione's imagination into overdrive. A year after Ron was in disbelief at the idea of her being a girl, he had gifted her a bottle of perfume. That was probably the first definitively, unambiguously "girly" gift she had gotten since she was a young girl. It made her wonder how he was now viewing her.

The perfume's very unusual scent was something she still hadn't managed to place. It was unlike anything she had smelled before, but after the first surprise she found that she loved it. It was something she never knew that she wanted.

Hermione smiled to herself. That really did sum Ron up, didn't it? Everything she never knew that she wanted.

But she pushed her feelings down and focused on her Prefect duties. Nothing could happen. If she was mistaken, if she told him how she felt and he didn't feel the same way and just saw her as a friend, it would ruin everything. How were they supposed to go back to being friends after that? And his friendship was too important to her to risk.

But still, it was nice to walk with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My intention was to post the last chapter of this on Valentine's Day, but it didn't work out that way.


	6. 1997

Hermione kept forcefully turning pages on her Transfiguration textbook, not actually reading the words. She had gotten up at the crack of dawn to head down to the common room, but she assured herself that it was just to get a head start on revising, and not because she couldn't stand the thought of hearing Lavender giggling with Parvati when they woke up.

She couldn't admit to herself that every time she was going to look at the date "14th Feb" on her calendar today, her eyes would burn with angry tears. She couldn't admit to herself that if she so much as looked at his stupid face today, she couldn't be sure she wouldn't put him in the hospital wing.

And she certainly couldn't admit how badly she missed him.

She glared even harder at the pages of her book, trying her hardest not to remember how, those months ago that now felt like a different lifetime, she had allowed herself to picture spending Valentine's Day of 1997 very differently. She had allowed herself to actually entertain the thought of taking part in all the kitschy silliness that she considered herself too good for.

She finally gave up, slammed her book shut so hard that it startled some passing first-years, and leaned back to scowl angrily at the ceiling.

Why couldn't he have just followed the damn plan? It was a good plan, a logical plan. They could go to the Slug Club party together, and if that new dynamic didn't work for them, they could just go back to being friends and never mention it again, without any fighting. The fact that it gave them an out and plausible deniability was the entire point, but if she had actually only wanted to go as friends, she wouldn't have asked like that. The conversation certainly hadn't been as flirtatious as she had hoped, but when people want to go on a date as friends, they say that, to avoid confusion.

At least, that's what Hermione thought. She wasn't an expert on the subject, and what she had read was often contradictory, but that was how Neville had asked her to the Yule Ball, and Harry had asked Luna to the Slug Club.

And he had certainly seemed to understand the unspoken idea she was offering. He had agreed and had started to be more nice and polite toward her for a while. Then, for no reason Hermione could discern, he had suddenly started giving her the cold shoulder and treating her like an annoying stranger. After feeling closer to him than ever, she was suddenly thrust back to the start of her first year.

Hermione shook her head, furious at herself for wallowing in self-pity about things that didn't matter anymore. No matter the case of what he did or didn't understand months ago, he certainly couldn't claim ignorance now.

She wasn't proud of how she had reacted after the first time he had attached his face to Lavender's, sending birds after him like some scorned harpy, but her pathetically spiteful display of jealousy certainly removed any question about how she felt about him. It was all out in the open now, and yet he was still snogging her every chance he got.

That could only mean one thing. One thing that Hermione was beginning to accept with a sinking feeling in her stomach. He had assumed that Hermione had only asked him to the party as a friend because that was all he was interested in. He saw her as a friend, and nothing more. The "more than friends" was apparently reserved for girly girls who were much prettier than her, who giggled at everything, and had no shame about sucking face in the middle of the common room.

His ideal girl was someone who was nothing like Hermione Granger.

And that was why Hermione tried her absolute best to hate him and not to dwell on how much she missed him. Perhaps the worst part of all this was the knowledge that she could end her loneliness at any time. He had tried to talk to her and offer an olive branch countless times, but she knew what he would say, and it wasn't what she wanted to hear. He would either bury the issue and force things back to their old dynamic with his attempts at humor, or he would kindly tell her that he was sorry, he didn't know she felt that way, but doesn't feel the same and that he hoped they could still be friends.

And as much as she missed him, she wasn't brave enough to go through that. Some Gryffindor she turned out to be.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw two feet coming down the stairs from the boys dormitory, and she was brought out of her sulking and her stomach tied into a knot as she saw him come into view, moving his hands as he talked animatedly to Harry about something. As he reached the bottom step, he scanned the room and found Hermione, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she actually looked him in the eye.

Time seemed to stop for a moment as his goofy (and totally not adorable) grin dropped and he visibly gulped. Hermione forgot how to breath. She was torn between running towards him or running out of the room—

"WON WON!" the shriek echoed through the common room and the moment snapped in an instant. A mass of streaming blonde hair made a beeline for him from the staircase to the girls dormitory and the girl attached to it launched herself into his arms.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my sweetheart!" she sang in a sweet voice, so loudly it turned every head in the room turned to either look in annoyance or to snicker at them as his face blushed a deep read.

Hermione turned away again, trying to relax all of her muscles that had suddenly tensed and forcefully opening her book again, when she heard footsteps walking up from her side.

"Feel like going to breakfast?" asked Harry defeatedly.

"Of course," she said shortly, and quickly packed up her belongings into her bag and marched quickly for the portrait hole, not looking back.

As Hermione and Harry walked down the corridor, a heavy silence fell over them. Harry kept looking at her sideways like there was something he was afraid to bring up, and it wasn't hard to figure out what it was.

"Do you have something to say, Harry?" she asked sharpy, meaning to scare him into muttering a "no, nothing," and changing the subject, but alas he didn't cooperate.

"It's just…" said Harry uneasily, "He doesn't talk about it, but he misses you too. Really badly."

Hermione crossed her arms and withdrew into herself.

"Oh yes," she said scathingly, "he looks positively miserable, doesn't he? Why don't we just focus on—"

"Bloody Hell, Hermione, I can't take this anymore!"

Hermione looked at him in shock, completely taken aback at the desperation in his voice. The look on his face made him look intensely anxious, and exhausted.

"Sorry," he said, "It's just….this can't go on forever, can it? I need you. Both of you. There's a war, Hermione, things are only going to get worse from here. So I need to know…"

They had stopped walking, and he was looking at her pleadingly.

"Is this what it's going to be from now on? Do you really never want to speak to him again? Do you seriously hate him that much?"

Hermione's heart was pounding. There were few things that stressed her out more than being asked a question she couldn't answer. She didn't know how to say that she didn't hate him, though not for lack of trying, and of course she didn't want to stay like this for the rest of their lives, and yet she had no plan for how to reconcile.

So Hermione did what she usually did when she was cornered. She defensively lashed out.

"You don't need to tell me how dire things are, Harry!" said Hermione, raising her voice, "I'm the one who's reading the Prophet every morning while the rest of you talk about Quidditch or procrastinate on your schoolwork! And don't insult my intelligence by acting like you're somehow immune to being preoccupied by who is spending Valentine's Day with who!"

Harry's face turned scarlet and he stepped back, now the one on the defensive.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry growled with a glare, "I have to worry about Quidditch, people are counting on me. And I couldn't care less about who's dating who, I'm too busy worrying about a mission from Dumbledore I have no idea how to complete, not to mention a Death Eater plot right here in the school that I can't get anyone to take seriously!"

That was it. This morning, Hermione did not have the patience to entertain Harry's dual delusions that Malfoy was a Death Eater mastermind hatching a scheme that Dumbledore somehow hadn't noticed, but Harry had, and also his belief that he was actually succeeding in hiding his crush on Ginny.

"On second thought, I'm not hungry," said Hermione, and without another word she stormed off in the direction of the library.

Once she was safely sitting at a table tucked away in a remote corner, she finally allowed herself to cry. Harry had touched on the thing that she was most afraid to admit. She had always prided herself on always thinking things through and having a plan to accomplish what she wanted, but she hadn't thought ahead at all to what her and Ron's situation would mean after the end of the school year.

She now realized that she had been going along with an assumption in the back of her mind that something would just….happen. The last time they weren't talking, it had taken Buckbeak's sentencing to bring them back together. She was expecting some horrible tragedy to come along and take the decision out of her hand, forcing her to do what she was too afraid to do on her own.

She slumped and buried her face into her arms on the table. She cynically thought that as poor as that plan was, it was likely to work. The way things were going, some tragedy was probably inevitable.

* * *

"Happy Valentine's Day, Won-Won!" Lavender said loudly, beaming at him. "And happy Sunday, too, so I've got all the time in the world to show you just how happy it can be!"

"Can't wait!" said Ron, putting on a smile that he hoped didn't look like a grimace, and trying to keep his eyes on his girlfriend and not the portrait hole, where a different girl had just left.

"Come on," she said cheerfully, pulling him by the hand, "let's go find some privacy." She led him out of the common room and down the hallway, looking for a secluded spot while everyone else was going to breakfast.

Ron sighed, even as his body experienced the involuntary excitement that came when a pretty girl was about to have her hands all over him. He tried to remind himself that beggars can't be choosers, that it was a miracle that any girl was willing to snog a bloke like him, but he was starting to want more from life than just snogging. When they had first done it that day after the Quidditch match, he was certain that there was nothing better in life. As of that day, he barely knew Lavender, but he figured all that "feelings" and "connection" business could come later.

But it just….hadn't. They spent all their time together either kissing or finding a place to kiss, and by this point it felt like he snogged Lavender for the same reason he ate junk food; just obeying an imperative from his body that felt great in the moment but left him feeling slightly gross afterward, and the uncomfortable knowledge that he couldn't keep doing it forever.

It certainly didn't help things that in the back of his mind, there was already a girl who he could imagine being with forever. Hell, no point in pretending, there was a girl he was in love with. But he had blown the one chance he had with her before he even knew he had it.

It had felt like a dream when Hermione had asked him to go with her to that stupid Slug Club party. She didn't have to do that, if she thought she just needed a plus-one to save face, she could have just asked Harry since he was going anyway. She wanted him there, with her. He allowed himself to hope that he was finally getting everything he wanted with her.

But then….Ginny happened.

It wouldn't be fair to say she ruined everything. If that fight hadn't sent him spiraling into a pit of bitterness and self-loathing, something else would have. She just reminded him how delusional he was for thinking he had a shot with her.

Hermione snogged Victor Krum!

Of course she had. She was beautiful, and brilliant, and amazing. She was exactly the kind of girl to turn the heads of blokes who could have any girl they wanted.

And why in the world would a girl like that fancy Ron Weasley?

As he stewed in the hours after that confrontation, everything became clear to him. She had asked him to go with her just as a friend. Mostly likely, she didn't even really want him there, she just felt sorry for him and wanted him to stop his whinging about Slughorn ignoring him. Like a mother giving a child a sweet to get him to stop crying.

How could he have not seen it before? If she had actually wanted to go on a proper date with him, she wouldn't have asked like that. When people want to go on a date as more than friends, they say that to avoid confusion, not be flippant about it.

But if you preferred I "hooked up with McLaggen…"

For days afterward, he could barely look at her. He was angry at himself for being so stupid and angry at her for getting his hopes up. And after every time he snapped at her and she snapped right back, he just became more and more certain that nothing would happen between them. So when Lavender had started running her hands through his hair at that party, he felt so lucky that he told himself to not question it. Beggars can't be choosers, after all.

Turns out, Ron had been an idiot, just not in the way he thought.

Even he could figure out that if Hermione had truly only seen him as a friend, then she wouldn't have gone completely mental the way she did. The look of complete hurt and betrayal on her face as she sent those birds after him was the most baffling thing Ron had ever seen. One girl fancying Ron Weasley was crazy enough, two girls fancying him at the same time had to be some kind of mistake in the universe. But there was no other explanation, and that look still haunted his dreams.

But he hadn't realized any of that until it was too late. Just now, when he had finally looked into her eyes again after months, all he saw was rage and loathing. So unless there was some way to hate someone and love them at the same time, his friendship was now over with her, much less anything more.

And as completely terrible as that made him feel, he was certain it wouldn't help anything to ditch Lavender now. Even if Hermione did still have feelings for him, if he dumped Lavender to run after Hermione, then it would look — to Hermione, Lavender, and everyone else — that he had simply used Lavender to make the girl he really liked jealous. And Ron would not be that kind of git. He'd rather be unhappy for the rest of his life than be that kind of git.

So here he was, months later, just going through the motions, waiting for something to change.

"So, er, Lav," Ron cleared his throat, "How was your day yesterday?" He visibly winced at how awkward and formal he was being toward this girl whose tongue had been in his mouth.

"Oh, it was great!" Lavender said cheerfully, without missing a beat, "Parvati and I tried out this new hair potion we ordered; We used it on her, did you notice how she had great volume? I think I'm going to order some because I think you'll like it; She wanted to use it because we're pretty sure there's this boy in Hufflepuff who fancies her, but she's worried that he actually fancies Padma and just got them mixed up a few times. There was actually something we read in Witch Weekly where if you have a twin you can use that to see how a boy really feels about…."

Ron let his girlfriend's words just wash over him. His effort to actually care about what was going on in her life didn't last long, and soon he was just nodding along and back to brooding about his situation with Hermione.

He was jerked out of his thoughts when they arrived at an empty classroom, and Lavender turned to him with a sultry smile.

"But you don't want to hear about all that, do you?" she asked in a low, invited voice.

"Oh no, I do—" Ron protested weakly as she grabbed him by his collar and pulled him into the room. He knew he wasn't being convincing, but a transparent lie was better than admitting out loud "I'm making a last-ditch effort to have an actual conversation with you to see if I actually like you or not."

Lavender quickly pushed him against the wall and furiously pressed her lips to his. His nostrils filled with the scent of her perfume, and before he lost control of his faculties completely, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away.

"Lav — just — wait a — second," he got out between kisses.

He finally got her off of him, and her girly smile quickly fell into a look of genuine hurt.

"Won-won, what's wrong?" Lavender asked, her voice laced with worry, "Did...did I do something wrong?"

"No!" said Ron quickly. If he couldn't handle a lighthearted conversation with this girl, a serious one was out of the question. And the idea of an actual fight with her terrified him to his bones.

"No, everything's….everything's fine," sighed Ron. He brought his hands up, one to run his fingers through her blonde hair and the other to gently rub his thumb on her cheek, and her smile returned to her face. She really was very pretty.

Oh, sod it.

He leaned down and started kissing her again, and turned off his brain and let his body take over. A few more meals of junk food wouldn't kill him.

* * *

Harry was kicking himself as he walked down to breakfast, alone now, for snapping at Hermione. He knew, objectively, that the business between Ron and Hermione and their drawn-out romantic feelings for each other was none of his business, but it sure as hell felt like his business when it forced him to have every conversation twice.

Harry reached the ground floor and was making his way to the Great Hall when he came under attack.

"Hi Harry!"

Harry jumped out of his skin and grabbed his wand in his pocket as he spun around to see the smiling face of Romilda Vane, still looking just as confident as she had when inviting him into her compartment on the Hogwarts Express. One would never guess that she had received several months of rejections and cold shoulders from her quarry.

"I hope you're having a good Valentine's Day!" said Romilda, the sweetness in her voice more like cough syrup than honey.

"Brilliant," said Harry flatly, and started walking even faster in the direction of the Great Hall.

"Did you get a chance to try those Chocolate Cauldrons yet?" asked Romilda, almost jogging in order to keep pace with him.

"Er — no," said Harry, not looking at her, "I'm staying away from sweets. You know, for Quidditch." And because it's blatantly obvious you spiked them with love potion, he almost said out loud. He was weighing whether gossip about him being a cruel heartbreaker was worth definitively, publicly telling her to get lost.

"Well, I'm sure you could cheat for one day and still fly brilliantly, I won't tell anyone," said Romilda playfully.

Harry didn't understand it. Last year, offending girls and driving them away had come so naturally to him that he didn't even have to try. He was a damn prodigy at it. Why was his gift failing him now?

Suddenly, Romilda cut in front of him so fast that he almost plowed right into her. She bounced on her feet as she continued to give that unflinching smile.

"I have a feeling if you would just try the chocolates, you would have a very good Valentine's Day today."

Harry felt a cold shiver travel up his spine.

"Er — I've had a great Valentine's Day today," he stammered, brushing past her quickly. He frantically tried to come up with something that would discourage her.

"I sent a letter to my girlfriend," Harry heard himself saying. His eyes then widened at the shock of what he had said.

Harry heard an audible gasp from her, then jerked back in genuine fright as her eyes flashed dangerously. He almost thought he saw steam shoot out of her nose.

"She, er, doesn't go to Hogwarts you wouldn't know her," he pressed on, figuring in for a penny, in for a pound. "She's a muggle. We grew up together. And also, she lives in Canada now."

"Oh…" said Romilda softly, regaining her composure. Harry was hopeful that she was finally throwing in the towel, but then she fell in step with him again, closer to him than ever, and just brushed her arm up against his.

"Well that's a shame," she said, sounding genuinely sad, "Long distance relationships can be hard. And I don't think a muggle can ever truly appreciate how great you are, just my opinion."

She looked up at him and batted her eyelashes at him. "If you ever get lonely, I hope you know you can talk to me."

Bloody hell, thought Harry. She was so shameless that she didn't even blink at sabotaging an existing relationship. A warm feeling spread in Harry's stomach and he felt himself blush at the mental image of Ginny getting angry and hexing Romilda for encroaching on her territory. That feeling went cold, however, when he reminded himself that this was reality, not his fantasy. So Ginny wasn't his girlfriend, she had been over him for years, and she had no reason to care whether Romilda tried to "steal" him.

Harry finally — finally — reached the doors to the Great Hall, and thanked the stars when he saw Neville and Seamus already at the Gryffindor table.

He barely managed to restrain himself from breaking into a run and made a beeline for them.

"Hey have you guys done the Transfiguration homework yet I'm kind of stuck on the third essay want to go over all of it?" Harry word-vomited, and Romilda finally took that as a cue that she had no place in the conversation, and continued to walk further down the table.

Harry sighed with relief as Seamus didn't even try to hide his laughter.

"Harry Potter, Triwizard Champion, leader of underground armies, afraid of a fangirl."

"Shut up, Seamus," Harry grumbled as he started scooping eggs onto his plate.

"The simplest solution would probably be just to get a girlfriend," said Neville, "That would probably shoo her off."

"You'd be surprised," said Harry darkly with his mouth full.

"Don't go encouraging him," Seamus told Neville, his tone turning sour, "Two lovesick idiots in our year is more than enough, thank you."

Harry choked on his eggs and sprayed them all over the table in front of him.

"Is — that — where Dean is?" Harry asked between coughs, trying to sound casual.

"Oh yeah, he's got the whole bloody day planned out, every minute with her, no time for his friends," said Seamus bitterly, "He hasn't shut up about it for days." Harry's heart sank.

"Not that I have a problem with Ginny!" Seamus told Harry quickly, "I mean, I know she's practically your sister, mate—"

"No she's not," Harry blurted out, far too crossly and loudly than he would have liked.

"Er — sure, whatever you say," said Seamus, taken aback, "I just meant I don't want you to think I'm hoping they break up or something."

Oh yeah, that would just be terrible, thought Harry.

Of course Dean had a whole day planned for her. She deserved that kind of thing. And since she had a boyfriend who knew that, there was no telling how long they would be together.

An unwanted image floated up in Harry's mind's eye of himself having to smile and clap at Ginny's and Dean's wedding. He pushed away his eggs, suddenly no longer hungry.

* * *

"You go on to dinner without me," said Dean, "I've got to go check a book out of the library, I'll meet you there."

"That's fine!" said Ginny, trying not to sound too relieved. She had enjoyed most of the day, but as it drew into the evening, all the hours of being showered with constant affection was starting to get exhausting, possibly even smothering.

"I'll see you later," Ginny told him sweetly. She kissed him on the cheek before heading off toward the Great Hall.

Once out of his sight, her shoulders slumped and her guilt caught up with her. She felt like a bad girlfriend for not being more grateful and smitten. Dean had done everything right. It was completely the opposite of the disaster with Michael a year earlier. Hell, it was a great improvement over the last few months of this relationship.

As fiery and passionate as their romance had been when it started, things between her and Dean had started to cool off, culminating in a fight on the last day of autumn term, which cancelled their attendance at the Slug Club party. After the Christmas holidays, there hadn't been any more fights, but things hadn't reached the same high either, instead it was just a constant "good enough" lukewarm state.

But today, Dean had pulled out all the stops. She had gotten her all her favorite sweets through owl order, had given her a beautiful amber bracelet that matched her eyes, shared cups of hot chocolate with her in the best picnic one could hope to arrange in February, and presented her with a hand-drawn Valentine's Day card that he must have spent days on.

Dean was being a perfect gentleman, putting in real effort….but as much as it made her seem like an ungrateful bitch, she found herself thinking he was trying too hard. Like it made it all the more obvious that he was desperately trying to save a relationship that was within sight of its expiration date.

And of course, it certainly didn't help that every minor problem with Dean was amplified in her head by a little voice telling her that she probably had a different option. An option she had been hoping for for years.

Ginny genuinely thought she was over her thing for Harry. She thought she could go the rest of her life being happy for him and whoever he decided to share his life with, and finding happiness of her own.

What she hadn't accounted for was getting everything she had always wanted.

Ginny wasn't an idiot, so of course she had noticed Harry noticing her. She had spent enough years searching for that look in his eyes that there was no mistaking it: for several months, Harry had been looking at her "like that."

But apart from the excitement and feelings of validation, she found herself annoyed with him. He couldn't have gotten the memo that she was, in fact, a girl back when she was dating Michael? He had to wait until she had a legitimately good boyfriend to get her asking difficult questions?

And besides, she still couldn't be sure that Harry actually wanted to be her boyfriend. Just because he noticed her doesn't mean that he fancied her. There was a difference between a bloke liking the shape of your bum when you rode a broom and wanting to take you home to meet the parents (not applicable in this case, but it's a figure of speech). She figured if Harry truly appreciated her that way, he probably would have looked at her twice before her chest grew out, thank you very much.

Dean had appreciated her, and for that he deserved a legitimate chance, but as much as she tried she couldn't give him one. She was always mentally comparing him to Harry. And it wasn't like she could tell him that, which had led to many moments where he could tell she was keeping something from him. He'd earnestly ask her what the problem was between them but he honestly wasn't doing anything wrong.

She couldn't even communicate little things, like why exactly Dean's chivalrous streak annoyed her and why she snapped at him whenever he tried to help her through the portrait hole. Not without admitting that it made her flashback to when Harry had to practically carry her through the Chamber entrance after saving her, and that feeling of uselessness returned. She just knew that he wouldn't understand.

She continued beating herself up as she walked through the doors to the Great Hall, intending to eat her feelings away like a good Weasley. She was halfway down the table when she spotted a messy head of black hair, hunched down close to a plate of treacle tart.

A grin spread across Ginny's face and a warm feeling bubbled up in her stomach. She knew she had just been feeling guilty about having thoughts about this boy, but she didn't have a choice, she had heard something today that she simply had to tease him about.

"You're a real git, you know that, Potter?" she said accusingly, sitting down across from him.

Harry's head jerked up, and for a moment he looked terrified and adorably confused, but after seeing the smirk on her face he relaxed.

"I'm not disagreeing in principle," he said with a raised eyebrow, "but why now, specifically?"

"You know, I really thought we were friends, Harry," said Ginny earnestly, putting a hand over her heart, "So it hurts that you thought you couldn't talk to me about this secret Canadian girlfriend of yours. I had to hear about it from Romilda Vane of all people."

"Oh yeah," Harry grumbled, frowning again, "That. Well, I don't see how you're surprised, you know how well-travelled I am. I've been to this school, your house, and a third place I'll find eventually."

There was a beat of silence as they looked at each other, trying to appear serious, before they both erupted into laughter.

"Seriously Harry," said Ginny, shaking her head at him, "I don't know why you keep making things harder for yourself."

She leaned across the table towards him. "The easiest way to get rid of Vane is to get a real girlfriend. I don't know if you've noticed, but you wouldn't have trouble finding one. Have you forgotten all the fangirls at Quidditch tryouts?" She hoped she managed to sound casual, and not too obvious that she was being nosy about whether there were any other girls who had caught his eye.

Harry stopped laughing. He looked back down at his plate and blushed furiously. Ginny allowed herself to believe that she was making him blush as much as the question.

"Yeah, well…" said Harry, waving his hand dismissively. "It's not like any of those girls actually like me."

"...What?" scoffed Ginny, furrowing her brow. That wasn't what she expected to hear. "What are you on about?"

"Well, you know…" Harry squirmed in his seat, "None of them even know me, so how can they fancy me? They're just caught up in the things people say about me, and all the 'Chosen One' tripe the Prophet is printing. If any of those girls actually got to know me, they'd get over it like you did."

Harry's eyes widened in horror and he visibly gulped. Ginny was torn between wanting to sink into the floor and laugh in his face. On the one hand, this was the first time either of them had acknowledged, out loud, her early crush on him. On the other hand, the idea that she had "gotten over him," or that there was nothing special about him, was downright hilarious.

Suddenly, something clicked in Ginny's mind. Was that the reason Harry had never taken her seriously before? He had assumed she wasn't interested in anything besides his name? The thought that he had such a low opinion of himself made her want to hug him. More than she usually did.

Harry was still looking terrified and was trying to recover.

"I — er — I just mean that—"

A loud giggle erupted from down the table and they broke eye contact, the tension cut like a taut wire. They both jumped and looked in the direction of the noise and saw a very exhausted-looking Ron making his way toward them, with a giggling blonde girl still draped all over him.

"I've — er — got to talk to Ginny about something, Lav, " said Ron desperately, "Family stuff, I'll see you later."

As Lavender skipped off, Ron plopped down next to Harry and sighed.

"Ronald, what is it?" Ginny gasped, "What terrible tragedy has befallen our family, dear brother?"

"Shut it," Ron snapped.

As Harry and Ginny began their two-pronged attack of teasing Ron, Ginny became more relaxed after their close call. This was so normal, so mundane, that it was odd this might be the highlight of her Valentine's Day.


End file.
